


A Little Fussy

by Foxtrots



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxtrots/pseuds/Foxtrots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bilbo falls ill after a particularly bad rainstorm, the dwarves are there to mother and fuss over their little hobbit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Fussy

“Oooh, well that’s no good!” Bofur exclaimed, approaching the bundled up hobbit. As if being the smallest, weakest and least experienced one in the company wasn’t bad enough, Bilbo Baggins now found himself wrapped in blankets upon blankets with his voice too hoarse to speak and cocooned so tightly he could hardly move, only to be coddled by the dwarves.

Bofur fussed at Bilbo’s blankets, then placed his hat on the hobbit’s head. “There, that should do it! The head has to be warm or else his cold with never go away,” he proclaimed proudly.

“Allow the lad to breathe!” Dori chimed in, rearranging the blankets again. “Now, is there any willow bark around here? I think that’ll help the lad’s sore throat.”

“Willow bark? No, no, you have it all wrong! Blueberry seeds is what me ol’ mum used on me,” Gloin offered.

“The poor lad would choke on seeds!” Dori snapped. “Now, this little hobbit needs to be closer to the fire with a nice hot cup of tea to sip on. And I daresay a touch of honey would do the trick.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, how do you expect to find some honey?” Nori called out.

“Oi! That’s enough shoutin’, you’ll frighten the little thing,” Bofur nearly cooed, making the hobbit flush with anger. A rant was on the tip of his tongue to tell all the dwarves wrong. That yes, maybe he was small, but he was certainly a grown-up and he had survived a few colds in his life and he could very much take care of himself. Only his scratching throat prevented that.

“Now, now, lads, he just needs some rest, give him some space,” Oin interrupted the dwarves, sitting next to Bilbo with a cup of something steaming. It smelled of orc, in Bilbo’s mind and he groaned when it was pressed to his lips. “Come now, it’ll only make you better.”

Bilbo turned his head to the side like a fussy child, refusing to taste that smelling drink. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was poison. Of course if he could speak, he’d suggest some lemon water his dear old mother would prepare for him as a child. And buttered toast and a nice long nap and a hot bath after that. Though he supposed lemons, toast, naps and baths were out of the question.

“Stop fussing now,” Oin said, practically having to hold Bilbo’s head still and pry his lips open. The drink tasted nearly as bad as it smelled, but he somehow managed to down it all. In truth, it did warm his freezing chest and give him a full and soothing feel, but there was a terrible aftertaste in his mouth. “There! Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Oin said, as if the hobbit was a child. “Now lads, he needs plenty of rest, leave him be.”

Bilbo was grateful for a bit of peace and quiet.


End file.
